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About a decade ago, Montreal was looking a tad down at heel. The once-vibrant rue Ste-Catherine was beginning to look like a ghost town, as shops went bankrupt, their windows boarded up for good. Even the Super Sexe clubs were struggling.

Old Montreal had also fallen on hard times. And although nobody but tourists ever went there, even the tourists had stopped visiting.

But then the most unlikely thing happened.

The downtown core started picking up steam. And Old Montreal was suddenly abuzz, too. Hip restaurants and cafes opened. Dilapidated heritage buildings were transformed into condos and boutique hotels started popping up.

Today, Montreal is back, and better than ever.

With the opening of two more boutique hotels in recent months (bringing the tally to a dozen), has the market finally hit the tipping point? I think not. Each hotel is unique, and there's one to suit most tastes.

After staying at many of the new hotels, the following six have a special place in my heart: Hotel St-Paul, Hotel Le Germain, Hotel Gault, Hotel Le St-James, and the brand new W Montreal and Hotel Godin. Here's why.

Lobby Life

One of the things that separates a boutique hotel from a big-box brand is the intimacy of the lobby, where ambience is key and a decidedly younger clientele mix and mingle over morning cappuccinos and evening cocktails. The vibe says exclusive, but not snobby, so don't think you're not cool enough to be there.

W's lobby -- or, as they call it, Living Room -- looks like the biggest, nicest den you've ever seen, replete with three waterfalls, a concierge station glowing red and comfy stay-a-while couches. The mezzanine's Plateau Bar, with its walnut-stained floors and forest of branches forming a canopy over an autumn-leaf-embedded acrylic bar, is a striking reminder that this truly is la belle province.

Meanwhile, over at the Hotel Gault, old and new blend seamlessly in the reception area, where inviting circles of Orange Slice chairs, designed by Pierre Paulin, sit beneath a soaring tin ceiling. Walk the ramp up to the library, take in the steel fireplace, read up on Frank Gehry and sip a highball while, outside, a horse-drawn carriage trundles by.

At Hotel Godin, the lobby, designed by cutting-edge design firm Yabu Pushelberg, is an elegant yet informal melange of textures: marble, slate, cork and concrete, in a range of neutrals and moody greys. The hotel's bar takes the opposite tack, with splashes of citrus orange and purple, steel curtains and backlit mirrors. The location is mere stumbling distance from celeb hangouts Globe and Buona Notte. Same owners. Go figure.

Meanwhile, at the St-Paul, a peekaboo alabaster fireplace wall serves as the lobby's focal point, and sleek couches, artfully strewn with animal pelts, invite visitors to relax. Cube restaurant and the new Cube 2 are here and always happening.

Bath and Bedtime

As soon as I swish the key and enter my hotel room, I invariably ask myself, "Why can't my bedroom look like this?"

At the Gault, each room is different, though they all offer a loft-style aesthetic that's industrial but inviting. The look is lean and spare, with exposed brick, white oak built-ins, big old Flou beds and pocket doors that allow visitors or artists to rearrange the floor plan to suit their taste. Subway-tiled bathrooms are spacious and efficient (minimal ingredients used for maximum impact) and include deep tubs, Arne Jacobsen bath fittings, square Duravit washbasins and heated floors.

At W, rooms feature oversized couches and desks, risque voyeur-windowed showers, mirrors and intriguing shots of electric blue.

Praised by Architectural Digest and Wallpaper for turning a nondescript office building into a welcoming hotel, Hotel Le Germain carries this warmth through to its spacious rooms, where earth tones and dark wood predominate, bathrooms are open-concept and beds feature lightweight duvets, "pillow-top" mattress pads and crisp, creamy linens.

Of the bath products sampled, both the Germain and W supply all-natural Aveda goods, while the St-James features Penhaligon's, a British brand. Though the St-Paul goes the extra mile, providing its own eponymous cedar-scented bath gel and lavender body cream, Hotel Godin's use of the Fresh brand -- sugar bath soap and pomegranate hair conditioner -- scored top marks with me.

Nice Surprises

By the time I'm fully ensconced in my luxury suite, rolling around in the 400-thread sheets and assuming it can't get any better, it usually does.

First, there's the Godin's welcome plate of five perfect blackberries, three lychees, two plump strawberries and a mini tangerine. Their sugared lemon jelles in an organza sack, at turndown, were also appreciated.

And on the topic of turndown treats, the Germain's dark chocolates and raspberry jelles on a slate slab made for the sweetest of dreams.

The St-James boasts the insignia of the Leading Small Hotels of the World, a network of five-star hotels that meet the highest standards of excellence and quality. I figure the reception desk must have a secret button, since the elegant elevator always arrives just when you need it. Other delightful touches include free shoeshines and bedtime truffles. The hotel also has its own spa -- a sole treatment room located in what was originally a gunpowder room in the outer walls of Old Montreal, then was the vault of the centuries-old merchant bank that now houses the hotel. Modern touches include an electronically locking curved steel door and underlit onyx floor.

At the Gault, the buffet breakfast served in the lobby is nothing short of an edible design offering: Quebec cheeses and pates, precisely arranged on modern white plates, flawlessly segmented citrus fruits, mini croissants and pain au chocolat. The lattes are a knockout, too.

W's elevators make for an enjoyable ride and include a tip-of-the-toque to Canadiana, with holographic images of slender birch trees on the elevator walls. And, the "Whatever, Whenever" button on W's telephone keypads means personalized service to the highest degree, be it an afternoon rose-petal bath or the last-minute cleaning of a suede jacket. It was here that I heard the story about the visitor from New York who, at 3 a.m., was desperate to try poutine, so he pushed the button and had the concierge trek out to Ste-Catherine, in the dead of winter, to fetch him some.

Whatever.

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